Accidental
by EvilPumpkin
Summary: Fang loves Max. So why can't he stop writing letters to Dylan, letters the other bird-kid will never read? Dang twoshot, post-FANG. I might add to this, depending on my mood.
1. Chapter 1

_Dylan,_

_I don't think I've ever hated anyone more than I hate you. Maybe evil scientists. But they don't count. The way I feel about you is different. I can't control it. I don't care that you're a test-tube mutant and can't help it. I don't care if you're the nicest and smartest dude in the universe and can sing better than Bono. I want Max to be mine. You have no right to touch her. I don't care how the wack-job whitecoats programmed you. I've been by her side practically since the day she was born.  
But I can't be around. My anger towards you is getting in the way. Clouding my decisions. I don't know what is the right thing to do. And this thing with Max... it's a thing with you too._

_Dylan,_

_I hate you still. So much. Even though I'm back home now (against my will, may I add – thanks a lot) I can feel Max slipping away from me every second you're around. And the worst is I find it hard to blame you for it. I don't know what it is – maybe you were engineered to be some sort of fucked up magnet – but whatever it is about you that draws Max draws me too. This would be a whole lot easier if you weren't always so great and smart and helpful. What's wrong with me?  
The thing is, it's all your fault. Max belongs to me. She always has, and I've always belonged to her. I don't know how _not_ to belong to her. Without that, I wouldn't know who I was any more. Don't mess with that. Don't you dare._

_Dylan,_

_Stop it. All of it. Stop smiling at me and chatting to me and being so God damn sympathetic. I see the light in Max's eyes when you sing to her, and the way we all laugh at your jokes. I hate that you can make me laugh, that you're clever and interesting, that you can control my feelings this way. Every time I forget that we're enemies it only makes the Flock think I'm starting to accept you. Makes _me_ think I'm starting to accept you. That's never going to happen. Let's be clear on that._

_Dylan,_

_You kissed Max. _Kissed_ her. It makes me burn with jealousy, and for all the wrong reasons. I can't control my thoughts, my feelings around you... I hate you for this more than anything you've ever done. You have no right to be this powerful.  
Don't think you've won. Keep your hands off Max. I don't want you touching her._

_Dylan,_

_Why are you doing this? Either you really have no idea, or you're some kind of sadist. Don't you know how confused I get when you smile at me like that, or that you stand far too close for my peace of mind? Don't you know it fucks with my head when you chat to me for hours and then go and snuggle up with Max? I hate the sight of you together more than ever. These thoughts are... She's all wrong for you – I mean, you're all – I don't even know any more. Do you enjoy screwing my life up? Is that it?_  
_No, that's not the problem. I'm the problem, and I know it. I don't even know why I'm here any more. I should just leave you and Max and the rest to your cosy little nest. She obviously isn't interested in me any more, and let's be honest, I was never any competition. But I can't bring myself to go – it's you or Max or maybe a confusing mixture of both that keeps me prisoner here. When Angel's home, she won't stop watching me. If the four of us are in a room together her eyes flick back and forth like she's watching a tennis match._  
_In my first letter, I said I'd never hated anyone more than I hate you. It's still the truth._

Fang sucked in a deep breath, scanning the last paragraph of the letter he'd written last week. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, wondering if that statement was true after all_. __I've never hated anyone more than I hate you_. Maybe it had never been true. He thought back to that first letter with a quiet groan. Reading it over... even then, the dude had wormed his way into Fang's head. He refused to even think the word 'heart'.

Which left the problem (as he thought of it) of the note he'd found, lying on top of the keyboard. It would only be polite would have to reply, he supposed. It was a wrinkled shadow of its former self now, after much reading, crumpling, uncrumpling and rereading.

_Fang, _

_I don't think I've ever loved anyone more than I love Max. But the way I feel about you is different. I can't control it._

Well, that'd teach Fang to leave the laptop running on his desk when he went out to the grocery store_. I'm replying out of __politeness_, he repeated to himself firmly. _You owe him the truth, no matter how confusing it might be. _He turned his attention back to the laptop screen and closed the old document before opening a fresh one.

_Dylan,_ he began. _Here goes nothing..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A very, very short extra chapter that I wrote sometime.**

_Dylan,_

_Well. This is awkward. Firstly, what the hell, man? You can't read through my private stuff just because it's there. Respect people's privacy. I know you're only like a year old or whatever, but there's some stuff you pick up when you live in the normal world. And going through people's private files? You just don't_ do_ that.  
And about the other thing. You hate me too. I get it. No need to rub it in my face._

"Fang, is this your shit on the printer?"

He leapt to his feet and snatched the paper out of Max's hand before her brown eyes could catch more than a few words. "Fuck! Be careful, asshole!" Anger sparked in her eyes, and she sucked the shallow cut on her index finger.

"None of your business," he muttered.

Max rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, get over yourself Fang. This is pathetic! You're writing _letters_, now?"

He crimsoned, and his black eyes narrowed into slits. It was an expression she'd never seen before, not even when he was facing down Erasers. "Fuck off, Maximum." Emphasis in every syllable.

Fang felt _his_ blue eyes burning into him as he stormed down the hallway. "_And I hope _you_ enjoyed listening in!_" he roared, surprised to see the other bird-kid flushed and confused. He crashed onto his bed, and took a lonely satisfaction when no-one followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Fang?"

Dylan waited for a response. Inside, there was silence as the other boy deliberated, then: "Oh, fine. Come in."

He pushed open the door. It was dark inside, so he switched on the light. Fang was at his writing desk, and pointedly closed the lid of his laptop when Dylan's eyes went to the screen. "Writing?"

Fang's eyes hardened. "Not to you, if that's what you're thinking. I think you made it pretty clear what you thought of that earlier."

The other bird-kid looked troubled. "Did I?"

If anything, Fang looked angrier at this. He didn't reply, but his glare heated up to furnace level and Dylan had to look away.

The room was a mess: bed unmade, floor littered with old socks and empty pizza cartons. The air in the room was stale, the smell of sweat and old food masked by a layer of body spray. "You need to get out of here once in a while."

"You can leave now, Dylan."

"Seriously, it's not healthy for you to sit in here all day."

"Yeah, well we can't all be Mr. Wholesome. Go play house with Max or whatever you were doing before you came here."

"Nope, I'd be taking my life into my hands. I know not to interrupt her when she's sulking. The two of you are scarily similar sometimes." Dylan spoke mildly, regardless of the acid in Fang's tone.

"Well feel free to stop interrupting me anytime."

"We should hang out," he blurted all of a sudden.

The words stopped Fang in his tracks. _Breathe, then speak_, he reminded himself. "Hang out?" Stunned, not angry.

Dylan felt stupid for even suggesting it. "Yeah."

_Breathe. Speak._ "You mean, like a-" Fang stopped himself before the word 'date' left his lips. Because of course Dylan didn't mean it that way. And because it would have made him sound like an actress in a dumb teen movie, and then he would have been forced to shoot himself. "Uh, sure." He looked at the other bird-kid for a second, before adding casually, "What will Max say?"

"Max won't-"

Fang raised and eyebrow. Max _would_ care. Dylan flushed; paused; reconsidered.

"Well - what Max doesn't know won't hurt her."

Fang's eyes snapped and flashed at this - in ways which made Dylan's heart pound and his thoughts turn sluggish - but he just nodded. "Sure. Why not?"


End file.
